Smokin' In The Boys' Room
by selanfene
Summary: Sputchy slash.  A forbidden relationship that blossoms between the ugly orange paint and harsh flourescent lights of a school bathroom.  Rated for language and later chapters.  R&R.
1. April 16

**Disclaimer: Me and newsies have no ownage of each other. Actually, I lie. Newsies owns my soul.**

**April 16****th****. 6****th**** hour.**

"Hey, you're in my precalc class, right?"

I turned, snuffing my cig out on the rim of the sink. The guy was pretty ugly, with heavy eyebrows and glasses. I paused, envisioning the precalc classroom, before answering, "Third hour?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah—you mind if I smoke?" I drew another cigarette from the pack in my pocket and dug around in my other pocket for my lighter.

"Not at all—can I have one?"

I paused again—why should I give some random fucker one of _my _cigarettes? "...Sure," I finally said, lighting one and handing it to him. He took a deep drag as I lit my own.

"I'm Mark," he said after a few minutes.

I took another drag, then turned and blew the smoke into his face as I answered, "Ivan."

"Um... they call me Specs."

"Who?"

"My friends."

I fought the urge to retort, _you have those?_ and said instead, "Oh... Dutchy." I thurst my thumb at my chest.

There was a pause, in which I kicked open a stall door and sat on the toilet, idly smoking and reading the inside of the stall.

This Mark/Specs character couldn't let me be.

"So... um... what're you doing here?"

I took another drag and let it out before answering. "Smoking."

"...Okay, stupid question."

"No shit," I said noncommittally before kicking the stall door shut. It bounced back open, and I kicked it shut again. It kept bouncing back, and I kept kicking it back, and it kept bouncing, and I kept kicking, until finally I just held it shut with my foot. I silently smoked and examined the top of my black Converse high-tops.

Outside my stall, I heard silence, then a splash and a quiet, "fuckbit."

I didn't inquire.

"I dropped my cig in water," Mark told me.

I didn't answer.

"I don't suppose I could have another?"

I inhaled.

"Please?"

I blew the smoke out, watching it spiral away.

"I won't drop this one," Mark begged.

Finally, I let my foot down. The door drifted open, and I tossed the pack at him. He fumbled the catch—of course—and the pack opened, scattering six cigarettes on the damp bathroom floor. He gathered them up and took one, dropping the other five back in the small box, which he held out as he asked, "Can I have a light?"

I handed him my lighter and said, "Keep the pack."

"Oh, thanks."

I rolled my eyes and took the lighter back—I noticed as I rolled it thoughtfully in my hand that it was getting low on fluid. I flicked it, watching the flame lick the air. Then I slowly moved it over so the flames burned the ugly ornage paint on the bathroom stalls.

"Um, you should call me Specs."

I dropped my butt on in the toilet between my legs. "I'm going back to class."

"Oh. Uh... bye..."

I hled up a hand to wave, but the door shut behind me before I got the chance.

**A/N: Yeah, the chapter's pretty short. They all will be, because I'm putting up a separate chapter for each day, and since it just details the time in the bathroom, there's not a whole lot to cover.**


	2. April 17

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies OR Sharpies OR Starburst OR Marlboros OR Camels OR Bic lighters.**

**April 17****th****. 3****rd**** hour.**

_Squeeeeeeeak_... _slam!_

I glanced in the mirror—that Mark/Specs guy from yesterday was standing behind me, digging in his pocket.

"I brought my own today," he said proudly, holding up a pack of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other. Marlboros. I didn't like those much. Not like I had a favorite brand or anything, but I mostly smoked Camel cigs.

He lit up and stepped up to the sink next to me. I continued ignoring him.

"So, Dutchy—"

"_Ivan_," I interrupted.

His face fell. I went back to smoking and minding my own business. There was silence for a few minutes, in which I dropped my butt to the floor and pulled out a new cigarette. I flicked my lighter. Nothing happened.

"_Fuck_," I swore under my breath.

"Need to borrow mine?" he asked.

I stared at him for a minute. I felt like saying, _that piece of shit lighter? No, thank you! _but I _did _need a light... I reached out for it instead of saying anything at all. After I lit my cigarette, I dropped the lighter in my pocket.

He stared.

I smirked at his reflection in the mirror that covered one entire wall of the bathroom above the sinks. He put out his cig and said, "You're an asshole." A strange expression swept over his face.

"Am I?" I took a drag.

"Yeah." He continued to stare at me in the mirror.

"Alright." I dropped my cig, steppingon it to put it out as I pretended to walk away. Then, pivoting, I threw a punch at Mark's face.

My knuckles collided half with his nose and half with his mouth. Despite the pain I could tell (by his eyes) he was going through, and the blood, he did nothing.

"I'm an asshole," I said quietly, "and you're an ugly, _boring _fucker." I got a Sharpie out of my pocket—people often said my pockets carried everything except the kitchen sink—and scrawled:

_MARK IS AN UGLY FUCKER!_

I stood back, admiring my work. The words were in huge bubble letters across the mirror. I allowed myself to throw one quick glance in his direction. He looked more amused than insulted.

"You're pretty immature," he told me.

"So's your mom."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, _wonderful _comeback."

I shot him a glare and stalked out of the bathroom.

**Same Day, 7****th**** Hour.**

"Shit, do I _always _run into you when I come to smoke?" I complained. Mark had walked in and gone over to a urinal. He dropped his pants and peed. As much as I hated the fucker, he was _big_. Definitely bigger than me. I scowled at my reflection and took a drag. My face scowled back at me from beneath the letters "ug" and took a drag as well.

Mark came over and washed his hands. "Um, I'm sorry," he told me. "But you _are _kind of an asshole."

I smiled a little. After digging around in my pocket a bit—I found keys, a half-eaten half-sandwhich, three pens, my crumpled up English homework, a bottle cap, a used kleenex, a few paperclips, my cigs, my wallet, a Starburst, my iPod, and _finally _what I was looking for—I handed him his lighter. "And you _are _kind of ugly and boring," I joked.

"You can have it if you need it," he told me.

I held up a new, yellow Bic lighter I'd bought at lunch.

"Okay..." he took his lighter. "We cool?"

I pretended to think. Somewhere between our fight this morning and now, I had actually started to like this fucker. "Yeah."

I snuffed my cig on the mirror, leaving a burn mark, and left.


	3. April 19

**Disclaimer: No ownage of Naruto.**

**April 19. First hour.**

I walked in, half-pleased and half-disappointed by the empty bathroom. After deliberating for a minute or two, I lay on the floor, curled in a fetal position with my hands under my head. I didn't have any smokes on me, and I was craving one bad. I popped a piece of nicotine gum into my mouth.

I wasn't trying to quit smoking, really—one of my exes gave me a lifetime supply of this shit. I figured since I haven't got any fags, I may as well try this for a while.

The door squeaked, announcing someone's imminent presence. I didn't get up. Whoever it was could step around me.

"Hey," a familiar voice said. I smelled the smoke before I saw it. When I did, I rocketed up and practically tackled Specs until I found his cigarettes. Without asking, I took one and lit up.

After taking a long drag and letting it out right in his face (he coughed a little, but not nearly as bad as he'd done the first time I'd ever breathed smoke at him), I replied, "Hey."

"Where were you yesterday?"

"Class, moron."

"You? Class? Surely not!"

I kicked in a door on the far stall. Nobody uses the stalls anyway—only the lame-asses who have to take a shit at school. Nobody takes a shit at school. Get real. "Believe it."

"What are you, Naruto?"

Pause. Slowly, I turned to face him. "Say _what_?"

"Naruto... y'know... the anime? The English dub has him say 'believe it' all the time...?"

I give him my best, blank, 'what the fuck' stare. "Are you some kind of crazy anime nerd?" My voice holds hard contempt.

"Um..." His face has blushed an unbecoming shade of red between his enormous Adam's apple and his even bigger eyebrows. His forehead stayed strangely white. "No, my... little sister... watches... it..."

It takes all my concentration to raise one eyebrow, and half the time I end up looking like a twatbag when I do it, but that's exactly the look I gave him. A raised eyebrow. A look of pure contemptuous disbelieve. A look of _and you expect me to believe THAT?_

When he speaks, I can hear a hasty, desperate edge to it. "So, uh, why'd you skip this to go to class yesterday?"

"Usually the question is the other way around," I say, faintly acidicly, without missing a beat.

"Yeah, but usually people don't have anything... special or important to do, you know?"

I don't think. I just say, "I don't either."

It sounds like bullshit, but I could _smell _the hurt in the air. This Specs dude actually thought this bathroom... thing... was _important _to me! What the fuck? I didn't let myself look at him—I just stared fixedly at the burn mark I'd left on the mirror two days ago. Someone had written next to it with Sharpie, "WELL AREN'T WE COOL, WE SMOKE IN THE BATHROOM. COME OUTSIDE DURING LUNCH FOR A REAL PARTY." I fought the urge to snort—the potheads outside during lunch were completely lame. I'd hung out with them for a while once, but their pot wasn't even pure, so I ditched them and switched to fags.

Finally, Specs spoke. "I thought... I thought, you know, this mattered. I thought the reason you came here so often was because you enjoyed this... liked smoking with me."

I added another burn mark to the mirror next to the previous one and snapped, "You thought wrong, faggot," and half-ran out of the bathroom.

But in the hallway, walking back to class, a voice in the back of my head whispered, _but, oh, you do._

**A/N: LOOK! AN UPDATE! It's the only thing I've updated recently... I've been running **_**so **_**dry lately... nothing's been coming to me or working out for me. I have about 10 fics started on my computer that I've not posted and probably won't for quite a while, but I'm trying to pick one of those to work on. Not like I need MORE fics to not update.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed.**


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